


Creative License

by FreckledSkittles



Series: Barisi Is Married and Happy Because I Said So [2]
Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: 5+1 Things, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Domestic Fluff, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Marriage, Married Barisi, Romance, theres so much fluff im rotting away, theyre not good lets be real
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-10 09:41:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19903660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreckledSkittles/pseuds/FreckledSkittles
Summary: Sonny has a plan.It’s not because he missed his husband during their week-long separation. And it’s not because there’s something lacking in their relationship. Work gives them long hours at a time, which makes every moment they can steal cherished and loved. If he can come up with a way to have fun in those stolen minutes, he’s going to try and get it.Sonny loves Rafael. He just wants to take a bit of creative license to show it.





	Creative License

**Author's Note:**

  * For [soul_writerr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soul_writerr/gifts).



> (I want the record to show that I tried to look for the post that started this fic but I was very distracted by every other picture of the sunshine baby boy that is Sonny Carisi and the Adonis of a man that is Raul Esparza thank u Kat)
> 
> So almost a month ago, I found [this tweet](https://twitter.com/pastelpinktv/status/1143165374340485121) which sparked a conversation that honestly set a fire under my ass to put it into a fic because I am nothing if not a slut for Barisi. And it's a 5+1 fic because I've wanted to write one for a while and this is my chance. And they're married because why not
> 
> And that's why I'm here with this fic, featuring lawyer husbands and fluffy yet bad pickup lines :)))
> 
> So yeah I hope you enjoy this Kat! If you haven't read [this masterpiece of a fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19755931/chapters/46762516) "Sentimental Memories" and you like angsty husbands and amnesia, you should totally read it!

Amanda gets the text while she is grabbing coffee for the squad before work. And she is not surprised by its contents.

_You might want to get a pastry or something too. Guess who was caught sleeping in the crib._

Amanda rolls her eyes at the mental image of Carisi, still in his suit from yesterday, hair dry from products that were put in the morning before, curled on one of the beds and spooning his jacket. He only sleeps in the crib if a case holds him up and going home would waste time, which isn’t uncommon, or if Barba is out of town—like right now—which is rarer but more problematic. The conference Barba was attending was supposed to last four days, but severe weather and tornado watches kept him holed up in the Austin airport for two extra days. Carisi had prepared himself for the planned four days, and he had gone home without too much protest, but the announced delay was devastating.

Amanda would have liked to think that the squad had done a good job at getting Carisi home, at least for the first few days. When he found out about the delay, Carisi dragged his feet for the rest of the day. They took him out to dinner later that night, but the next morning, their efforts were barely met with a second glance or an extra word. At least there was paperwork and cases to keep Carisi distracted during the day.

The second she walks off the elevator, Amanda makes a beeline for Liv’s office. She and Fin are chatting, their most recent case from what she can tell, but their conversation falls when she walks in with a light knock. Amanda holds out the tray to let them take their drinks and looks around for Carisi. He must be out in the crib still.

“Carisi’s washing up right now,” Liv tells her with a frown. Close enough. “He didn’t even try to deny the fact that he hadn’t gone home last night.”

“I’m not surprised,” Amanda scoffs. “He’s been a deadweight for two days straight.”

“Give him some credit,” Fin chides. “When we’re working, he’s still Carisi. It only gets bad when we’re off the clock.”

“And Barba texted me last night, said he was on his way back on a 6 AM flight,” Liv adds.

“Does Carisi know?” Amanda asks.

“You tell me.” Liv nods to the bullpen, where Carisi—in yesterday’s suit, clearly ruffled but a touch fresher—stands at his desk and pads through files and papers. The neutral expression he’s had for six days is still straining across his face, and as serious as their work may be, it’s still an unsettling sight. “His phone died, so whatever messages Barba left, he didn’t see.”

“That’s a little obvious.” The way he carries himself paints a larger picture than any words could. “I bet Barba’s not too happy about that.”

The smirk Liv gives both Amanda and Fin says all she needs to know. Fin shakes his head as Liv walks out of the office and to Carisi’s desk. He looks up and immediately straightens up; the dark circles under his eyes are more prominent when he makes eye contact. “Sorry about this morning, Lieu,” he says with a sheepish shrug, thanking Amanda when she hands him his drink and the pastry bag.

“Don’t worry about it,” she assures him. “Just promise me that you’ll head home tonight.”

Carisi flashes her a pained smile. “Yeah, I’ll try. Are we gonna review the testimonies before the witnesses come in for the lineup?”

The squad gets to work rather quickly after that. Carisi is distracted for a good portion of the morning, making it difficult to tell if he’s checked his messages or not. Amanda’s guess would be he hasn’t—told by the lack of energy over the thought of seeing his husband later that day, something that even work couldn’t hold back. Amanda manages to not say anything until lunch when she’s grabbing a snack at the vending machines in the breakroom and notices Sonny is hunched over his computer with the determination of someone who doesn’t plan to stop until after hours. With a sigh, Amanda gets him a bag of chips and plops them on his desk.

“Take a break, Carisi,” she chides. “Your eyes are gonna melt out of your skull if you stare at your screen for too long.”

Carisi looks at the bag of chips but doesn’t reach for them, returning to whatever report he’s typing up. “Thanks, Rollins, but I’m not really hungry right now.”

Amanda takes a seat next to his desk. If he was going to mope like that, whether or not he knew about Barba’s arrival, she was going to say something. “Alright, look. I get missing Barba, but he’s not staying in Austin forever. The only place down south that he actually thrives in is Florida, and they’re not even part of the south.”

Carisi laughs quietly at that. “Yeah, I know.” He leans back in his chair, pausing before he continues. “It’s not even about missing him, y’know? I mean, yeah, obviously, I miss him, we’re married. But I know how cranky he gets when there’s a delay, because he has to be moving ten steps ahead of everyone else, and tornadoes are impossible up here, so…” Carisi shrugs his shoulders with a wistful smile. “I dunno. He’s gone on conferences before and I’ve been fine. It’s the troubles I can’t be there for that I don’t handle well.”

Amanda wishes she can be disappointed at the loss of her initial feelings. But hearing Carisi share that, looking so lovesick and sounding so lonesome, makes it difficult to cling onto those feelings. It still amazes her how much love runs between those two. “He’s lucky to have you.”

“Now you sound like him.” Carisi turns back to his computer, a bit more energetic than before and with a faint smile on his face.

“Maybe that’s a sign.” Amanda stands to go back to her desk but stops before she does. “And you might wanna check your phone.”

About twenty different expressions cross over Carisi’s face—bewilderment, realization, horror among them—and he dashes across his desk to find it. He ends up finding it in his abandoned suit jacket, which had an alleged drool stain that wasn’t coming out, and is still looking for the charger ten minutes later when a familiar voice enters the room.

“Oh good, you’re not dead.” Barba drops a large white plastic bag and a pizza box on a spare table. Aside from a mild disheveled look that could only come from sleeping, or lack thereof, on an airplane, not a hair is out of place. He looks exactly the same as he did last week. “For all your whining about the evolution of technology, I thought I would be the one ghosting you.”

Carisi abandons his search and runs across the room to throw his arms around his husband. He lifts Barba up a bit with his embrace, bringing out a surprised yelp from the older man, but Carisi barely flinches. He just holds Barba close to him and breathes in softly. Barba glances up at his husband and returns the hug, albeit cautiously, and the tension in his expression from the slight lift off the ground disappears.

“Welcome back, counselor,” Amanda speaks up. Barba looks over at her briefly and nods in response. “Consider that hug from all of us.”

“Funny,” he smirks. “I didn’t realize my marriage covered the work wife.”

Amanda texts Liv, out at a meeting with Chief Dodds, to update her on Barba’s arrival. Fin returns from whatever paperwork had dragged him away and greets Barba with gusto that is really reserved for the food splayed out on the table. Barba’s plane had landed about an hour ago, and he had taken the time to order lunch for the squad and deliver it, partly to check in with them and partly—and most likely the most important—to see his husband.

Carisi stays latched to Barba’s side while he doles out pasta, pizza, and plates. There’s a bit of extra energy in his step when he pours one of the patrol officers a Diet Coke or hands over some napkins, but he never reaches far. His hand always returns to Barba, lingering on his hip or entwining their fingers together when he’s engrossed in conversation. Not even the sight of Liv, Barba’s close friend and favorite source of office gossip, returning from her meeting can separate them.

“Did the DA give you the day off?” Amanda asks once the lull for lunch dies down and the five of them remain.

“He offered, but I didn’t take it,” Barba says. Carisi whips his head and looks at his husband with utter bewilderment. “I’ve kept up with as much work as I could over the past two days, but it’s easier to do it myself instead of guiding Carmen through my office.”

“Seriously? You’re going in this late on a Friday?” Carisi frowns at him. “You look like you’ve barely slept.”

Barba snorts at him, a smirk flickering on his lips. “Are you saying that to me or a mirror? When was the last time you slept in our bed?” He raises his hand before Carisi can answer. “And I said ‘bed’ for a reason. I know you, Sonny.”

Carisi lets out a long sigh. “For your information, I only slept in the crib once while you were gone.”

“Not what I asked.” Barba leans up to peck his lips and smiles teasingly. “But I’ll let it slide, since I know your concern is reasonable.”

“Thanks. I should marry you.”

Carisi walks Barba to the elevator—which really means he’s walking him downstairs, which means he’ll open the door for him and either wait until his Lyft arrives or kiss him through the driver side’s window of their car. It was their usual goodbye routine, no matter how much they have denied it, and six days of separation wouldn’t change that.

Amanda looks between Fin and Liv. “I got ten bucks on them taking ten minutes to get back up here.”

“Twenty minutes and you get the fettuccini,” Fin adds.

Carisi returns twenty minutes later, just as predicted and more than a bit disheveled. He carries a little less weight on his shoulders and he sounds wistful of what will be waiting for him later at home. If any of them can find solace in their personal lives, Amanda is glad that it’s Carisi.

“So, any special plans for tonight?” Amanda asks from the door to the breakroom as he puts the leftovers away.

Carisi smiles and shakes his head. “Nope. I’m gonna order takeout from Raf’s favorite place, put on crappy TV, and we’re not gonna move until the morning.”

“And they say romance is dead.” Amanda holds the breakroom door open for him and walks out after him. “You should take off Saturday so you can rekindle some of it.”

“Ha, ha, you’re funny. We don’t need any rekindling. For your information, that’s what we do every night, so,” he shrugs, as if she was at a loss in the argument, “we don’t have to fix anything.”

“Uh-huh.” Amanda refuses to go down easily. The only thing she could possibly get out of this is the child-like feeling that comes from messing with her coworker, but that alone would be worth it. She leans against his desk with her arms crossed. “So all those moves you pulled to woo him are still good? The same old routine isn’t getting boring?”

Carisi’s eyes narrow. The detective in him looks her up and down, studying her to see what her motives are. If he knows what she’s getting at, he doesn’t say. Smart. “What’d’you want me to say? I don’t need a bet to prove I still got it.”

“I know, I know, I’m not betting anything, relax. But—”

“There it is.” With a rough exhale, Carisi plops down in his chair. “Rollins, as much as I appreciate your relationship advice, there’s nothing I need to fix. Besides, how do you know I don’t have something planned?”

“You do?” It’s not so much a question as it is disbelief. Very rarely does he lie or bluff, even for a meaningless joke, and especially about Barba? He probably has nightmares about that type of thing. She scoffs at Carisi’s sure nod. “Like what?”

“If I told you, that would ruin the experience.” With a swivel in his chair, Carisi winks at her and flashes a smirk. “It’s a surprise.”

* * *

Sonny has a plan.

It’s not because he missed his husband during their week-long separation. (Though if anyone, including Rafael, asked him, he would probably admit to that being a small percentage of the reason. Maybe five percent. Or twenty.) And it’s not because there’s something lacking in their relationship. (There isn't, because he and Rafael talk regularly about how to balance hectic work lives and personal time together. They attended a marriage counselor to build on the stable foundation they already have. It’s not to say they haven’t had rough patches, because they definitely do. They just know how to come back to one another and move on from conflicts.)

Work gives them long hours at a time, which makes every moment they can steal cherished and loved. If he can come up with a way to have fun in those stolen minutes, he’s going to try and get it.

Sonny loves Rafael. He just wants to take a bit of creative license to show it.

* * *

_One Hogan Place  
_ _Tuesday, 11 AM_

Carmen’s greeting to Rafael outside of his office is signal enough that his plan is about to begin. Sonny adjusts the corner of the extra bedsheet spread out on the floor—to prevent any stains, of course—and does a once-over. Clothes? Neatly folded and put aside. Flower? A tulip, the stem smooth and the bulb a bright yellow that is sure to compliment the navy blue suit his husband put on that morning. Lube? Fresh and in reach. Arousal? Present just enough to be noticeable, so that all Rafael has to do is unravel his tie to have him standing tall.

Sonny leans one hand on the desk behind him, careful to not scoot across it, checking over his shoulder to make sure the tulip is in the center of his desk, and perches his other hand on his hip. Thankfully, Carmen, ever the talented participant, stalls Rafael just a few seconds with an extra coffee and a question about arraignment. She passes on any messages Rafael might have missed, he makes a few remarks about the people or defense attorneys who requested a meeting, and then the knob is turning and he steps through the door.

Arguably, the first sight he expected in his office isn’t his ass-naked husband. But for all the whining and complaining he’s heard, Sonny has a sneaking suspicion that Rafael enjoys surprises. He handles this particular one quite well, actually—the second he looks up from the folder in his hand, his eyebrows raise upward and his eyes give him a once-over.

Sonny, steeling himself in his mission and avoiding a slip into the enjoyment of just being around his husband, winks at him and smiles in a way that has to be seductive. If Rafael had any reaction to it, he couldn’t see it. “Hey, handsome,” he says. He pitches his voice a bit lower for his next words, just to get a rise out of him. “You come here often?”

When Rafael still doesn’t respond, Sonny grabs the bottle of lube with the hand previously on his hip and tosses it across the room. It hits Rafael’s arm and lands on the floor. He didn’t even try to catch it.

“This is my office, Detective,” Rafael states curtly. “What are you doing?”

“What’d’you mean? I always do this.” Sonny waves behind him—he should have shut the windows before he got undressed—to the desk and nods to the sheet spread on the floor. “Strip in your office, bring lube, prepare for sex—”

“No, you don’t. Where are your clothes?” Rafael shuts the door and strides over to his desk. He eyes the tulip and puts the file in his hand off to the side to not trample the flower.

“I dunno.” If Rafael isn’t going to accept the pickup line, Sonny only has one last resort before this attempt gets embarrassing. “I must have lost them.” He adds a wink and a seductive bend over the desk to the latter. There isn’t much to view, since Rafael is now in front of him and any aspect of his body that could seduce him is hidden from his line of sight, but the movement alone should be enough.

It takes all but five seconds for Rafael to spot the folded set of clothes on his couch on the other side of the room. He nods to them with an arched eyebrow. “Is that them over there?”

Well. It was worth the try. Sonny sighs and slumps over to his clothes. “Yeah. It’s them.”

“I should be promoted to detective,” Rafael says with a smirk. At least he’s in a good mood. Sonny spots him giving a soft look to the tulip as he moves it to the front of his desk, placed right behind his nametag and within his direct line of sight. “Do you want lunch? Carmen’s grabbing some before my meeting with Buchanan.”

“The best distraction is an edible one.” Sonny pulls his underwear on and buttons his shirt but leaves his tie undone. “I didn’t know you had a meeting today.”

“I know.” Rafael steals a glance at his underwear. The smile he had given the flower has turned into a coy smirk. “He demanded it the second his client was remanded.”

“What else do you expect from that jackass?” His pants on and buttoned, thankfully without a bothersome bulge, and his vest hangs unbuttoned on his shoulders. “Wanna do my tie and take your mind off it?”

Rafael takes a step to the side to stand next to his desk but nothing else. “Is this a ploy to get me to touch you?”

“It can be whatever you want. Me wanting my wonderful husband to do my tie since he doesn’t trust me doing it but also knows it gives us more time together; two friends hanging out—”

“Friends. That’s a new one.” Whether he’s aware of the bait or not, Rafael stands in front of him and works on tying the silk around his neck. “I think we skipped past that stage.”

“Right, right. We bounced from being colleagues to getting engaged.”

“Something like that.”

Sonny smiles at him and leans down to peck the tip of Rafael’s nose. “I got a few minutes before I gotta head back, but I can make your day before I do.”

“Can you.” The tilt of his head, the lift of his voice, the path his hands take to trace his sides and hug his hips. It’s all a challenge, a game of flirt-and-chase, and Sonny is suddenly thirsty for all Rafael has to offer.

They miss lunch. Too busy making out to notice the food Carmen delivers. Too distracted to care if it got cold.

* * *

_New York County Courthouse_

_Friday, 8:45 AM_

A new intern from the DA’s office has been appointed to Rafael’s service. She’s clumsy and more than easily distracted by little things, but from what Sonny has heard, she’s dedicated and willing to learn. Aside from a bit too much daydreaming, Rafael sees little to criticize about her. Sonny has yet to meet her but he likes her from what he’s heard.

“I heard Barba got a new friend,” Rollins teases lightly. Their testimony is required in a trial—well, Amanda’s is, since Sonny has a personal relationship with the prosecutor trying the case—and they’re sitting outside the courtroom for Rafael to meet them before he’s needed. According to his husband, the intern will be joining him per the DA’s request.

“Yeah, they’re running off to get married,” Sonny shoots back at her. “I helped him pick out an engagement ring.”

Rollins smirks at that. “Congrats to them. You haven’t met her yet?”

He shrugs. “I haven’t been able to stop by since Tuesday. And when I am there, it’s for two seconds or less.”

“So this should be fun for you. Is she his work wife?”

“I mean, she has a lot of potential, from what Rafael tells me. She’s a good kid. If she ends up with a job when she graduates, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Rafael walks out of the courtroom talking to a tall woman, her dark hair braided and propped on her head like a crown. Sonny and Rollins stand when Rafael glances their way, and he leads the way over.

This is more than the regular motions of a work day, and this is far from a typical pre-trial meetup. Rafael always requests one so he can meet with those testifying and remind them of their limits on the stand, something he does out of habit from Brooklyn after an officer ruined his entire case within two minutes of the defense’s cross. Sonny understands, and he admires it and views it as proof of Rafael’s dedication to the job.

But today, Sonny has another small plan. Explicitly stripping in his office and throwing lube at his partner might not have been the way to go. No, the better option was subtlety, to nudge it under layers of words and suggestion, to make a search-and-find out of it.

“Detectives, this is the DA’s latest intern, Alesha,” Rafael introduces them when they get close enough. They shake hands and smiles and nods. Alesha has a smile characteristic of someone in their early twenties: grim from the stress of school work, but genuine in the joy of meeting other people. “They work at SVU and have been…diligent, to say the least.”

“Don’t give out too many compliments,” Rollins says with a snort.

Rafael gives her a smirk. “Not until you’re humbled.”

“I’ve looked over the case file a lot,” Alesha says. Her smile is nice too; there’s a shy dimple in her right cheek. “You guys are really thorough, and I really admire the work you’ve put into getting these women justice.”

“We do the best we can. I’m Amanda Rollins, the lead detective on the case.”

“Dominick Carisi, Jr.,” Sonny adds. “Call me Sonny.” He waits for the usual eyeroll and scoff from his partner and husband to pass before he turns to Rafael with a smirk. “And _you_ can call me anytime.”

Alesha clamps her lips together to suppress the growing edges of an amused grin. Rafael’s eyebrows furrow together in a brief moment of confusion, a look that rarely ever passes over him when he stands in his domain. The courthouse is the space where he displays his best and dances his best battles, not to reveal his insecurities or show the vulnerable look of surprise. “We’re talking in person, why on earth would I call you?”

“I think he was trying to hit on you,” Alesha explains, much nicer than the obnoxious snort and peals of laughter that Amanda lets out. Sonny has to smack her shoulder twice and stomp on her foot once to get her to stop.

Rafael rolls his eyes. “That makes sense. Only my husband would be able to say that to my face and live.”

“Aww.” Alesha grins and looks between them. “How long have you guys been married?”

“Too long.”

“Four years,” Sonny answers curtly.

“Good for you!” Alesha says, looking genuinely happy for them. As any person would, and in the back of his head, Sonny is happy that she gets the chance to work with his husband and one of the most successful ADAs New York County has seen. What is taking precedence in his head is the fact that his sly advance was, once again, unnoticed. Either Rafael didn’t see them for what they were—small bits of flirtation that were there to brighten his day—or he was avoiding them. And if that was the case, wouldn’t he have chided him for saying and doing foolish things during work hours?

Rollins doesn’t get the chance to question him until court breaks for lunch; Sonny knows Rafael would be too engrossed in court to grab food himself so he gets his order, along with Amanda’s and Alesha’s, and heads out to a nearby deli. Alesha makes room on the small bench outside of the courtroom for the food and thanks Sonny profusely; Rafael gives a grunt in acknowledgment and tears his eyes away long enough from his notes to kiss his cheek; Amanda hums something singsong and teasing, and the triumphant smirk on her face accompanies it.

“Get it out,” Sonny sighs as he sits down. “Lemme have it.”

“I dunno, I don’t think it’s a good time,” Rollins grimaces. Sonny knows it’s just an act when she turns to him with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Aren’t you expecting a call from Barba?”

“You know what, I take it back. I’d rather die than hear it from you.”

Rollins laughs quietly. “What made you say that? You and Barba aren’t the cliche flirty types.”

Sonny ignores the fact that she specifically knows how they flirt. He and Rafael were never as subtle as they wanted to be. “We aren’t. I just wanted to do something nice. We don’t have a lotta time to see each other during the day, so I thought it’d be fun to flirt with him a little.”

“If that’s the plan you have for him, it’s not working.” Rollins opens her bag of chips, hesitates, and switches them for Sonny’s salt and vinegar. “Do you have to do it at work?”

“This was my second try. I figure if one way doesn’t work, then I try something else.”

Rollins scoffs. “You tried something else?”

“Yeah, I…” It doesn’t take long to debate whether he should tell Rollins about his afternoon outing to Rafael’s office. She doesn’t need any more fodder than she has already gotten. “I don’t have legal standing to share that information with you.”

“Sure. Whatever you say.”

Court ends fine. Sonny spends half of it conjuring up a plan for the weekend and his next attempt to romance a man he’s already courted and married.

* * *

_Barba-Carisi apartment, Chelsea  
_ _Sunday, 3 PM_

Rafael spends much of Saturday cleaning their apartment and listening to En Vogue. Sonny is out for most of the day—at first helping a teenager off the ledge of a five-story building, then responding to an alleged kidnapping that turned into a case of child neglect and poor parenting, and ending with a handful of working girls fighting their pimp for failing to provide their payment. By the time Sonny gets home, En Vogue has long been shut off; it’s Rafael’s guilty pleasure for a reason. He only plays it when he’s alone, evident by the times Sonny has returned home to his husband scrambling to turn off the music and the fact that he hides the records in a special tin box subtly hidden in their collection of movies. Dinner is warming for him in the oven, and he falls asleep on the couch to mindless television, his head on Rafael’s shoulder.

Sunday is different. Sonny gets up for Mass per usual, and he returns to Rafael freshly showered and making a late breakfast for them. With neither of them on call, outside of Sonny’s phone on his person at all times, they have all the time in the world to spend their day together. Their breakfast is as domestic as it can be. Sonny’s cheeks hurt by the end of their meal, and his husband has to kiss it off to get him to stop.

They settle on the couch, Rafael sitting up and reading a book, Sonny sprawled out between his legs, back to chest, and playing a puzzle game on his iPad. The large blanket they usually keep over the couch sits around them, and Rafael has one hand hanging over his shoulder, only raising it to turn a page or absently run through Sonny’s hair. Occasionally, Rafael will share an interesting part of the book or Sonny hums through a tough part of the puzzle. Otherwise, a dreary and cloudy afternoon is peacefully spent in each other’s company.

“How far along are you?” Sonny asks once he finishes a puzzle.

“A few more chapters ‘til I finish,” Rafael says past a stifled yawn. “Time?”

“Three or something.”

“Hm.” He turns his body just enough to look out the window and sighs softly. “It cleared up a bit. We can go out for dinner. Just up the block to our usual weekend place.”

“That’s an idea.” Sonny turns off his iPad and turns to snuggle into his neck. “As long as we get to go together.”

Rafael scoffs. “Unfortunately, that’s one of the perks of marriage.”

“No way. What else is there?”

“Migraines.” Sonny hums and pecks the tip of his nose. “Pins and needles in my right leg.” He skips down to his chin. A smile flickers briefly on Rafael’s face but he bites it back before it stretches further. “Blanket theft at night.”

“That’s slander.”

“Change my mind.” Rafael steals his own kiss and smirks at him. “But before you do. What do you want for dinner?”

This is his chance. Sonny had come up with the idea on Saturday, and the only thing he needed was the right opportunity. There was no way it would fail, he was sure of it, and any mentions of work were far from their space and, if all else went well, it would stay that way. Then he could show Rafael just how smooth he was. “Well. Cuban sounds good.” Sonny winks at him and gives him the best seductive expression he can conjure up.

If Rafael catches on, he doesn’t give anything away. He just hums and nods and shifts his hip to pull his phone out from his pocket. “I’ll see if Jorge’s delivers.”

“What, no, I didn’t actually—” Sonny bites his lip to stop the frustrated huff he wants to release. “Raf, it was a joke.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind.” He looks up from his phone and grunts under his breath in thought. “Or we can go to Coppelia if it’s not too busy.”

Sonny shoos away any thought of trying to correct him and, in defeat, slides under the blanket. “Coppelia it is.” He should have known better. Of course he wasn’t going to take the bait. If Rafael didn’t react to it at work, and if he didn’t react at home, then there was no helping it. He just wasn’t impressed by his attempts to woo him.

Rafael pads his head through the blanket and lifts the edge to peer down at him. “Where’d you go, _cariño_? Do you not want Cuban?”

“I was trying a pickup line.” Sonny pokes his head through, propping his chin on Rafael’s chest and pouting. “Y’know, the classic ‘what are you hungry for’ ‘you’ type of thing.”

Expressions of confusion, realization, and regret flit across his face. Rafael relaxes immediately, eyebrows slacking, his smile soft. “Oh, Sonny. Why didn’t you just say that?”

“I wanted to be clever!”

With a long sigh, Rafael raises his hands to gently cup Sonny’s face. “Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

“I dunno.” Rafael leans over and captures his lips, the gesture sweet and warm. Sonny falls briefly into the familiar motion before it removes itself. “Hmm. I need another reminder.” He gets a chuckle and another kiss, this one more intimate. “Ohh. Try one more time, for insurance.”

Rafael gently strokes his cheek when he kisses him again. He wraps his tongue around Sonny’s and shifts down so that the taller man can straddle him. Sonny keeps the blanket over his shoulders so that he and Rafael are shrouded, kept in their own world. He pulls back to let his husband sit up, and he somehow manages to keep their mouths connected. It tastes like a lazy Sunday, like slow, languid movements while they take their time exploring territory they have known for years. Sonny pulls back to smile down at him, but Rafael dives forward to nuzzles his neck affectionately.

“Alright,” Sonny sighs, his smile a bit of relief and teasing. “You convinced me.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get your joke,” Rafael says, and he sounds genuinely apologetic. Apologies didn’t always come easy to him, especially when it was expected of him. It was easier to let him say the words on his terms, even though Sonny hadn’t pushed for an apology in years at this point.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for. How were you supposed to know?”

“It’s not about knowing. I try my best to understand your humor even if I don’t think it’s funny. I should have paid more attention.”

“No, no, no, hey.” Sonny moves off of Rafael, cupping his cheeks so that they make eye contact. “Your mind was on something else. It was a bad time.”

Rafael just groans. “Are you going to argue with me all night?”

“Only if you argue back.”

“Is that a dare?” Rafael moves onto his haunches, and a competitive flash of light fills his eyes. “Because I accept.”

Their playful bickering lasts most of the night. They order pizza and settle for a plea deal around a bottle of wine and shared kisses.

* * *

_One Police Plaza: SVU Interrogation 1  
_ _Wednesday, 12:50 PM_

“My client has been falsely accused.”

Rafael, his legs crossed in front of him, barely balks at the statement. From the one-way mirror, Sonny watches Fin, from behind his husband, roll his shoulders and bite on his cheek to hide an amused snort. “Your client was caught in the act. And, if you don’t mind a spoiler, we have DNA from,” Rafael pauses and turns to look at Fin in mock-confusion, “was it his first or third victim?”

“Fourth,” Fin corrects with a sly smirk.

“Ah, right.” Rafael faces the perp again, who is sitting with his fists clenched on the table. “My mistake.”

The defense attorney had made the request to see the ADA. Sonny is sure it has to be related to whatever confession his client shared with him. Why else would he demand Rafael’s presence in the interrogation room? It wasn’t a clever stalling tactic.

“Good news?” Sonny asks Rollins as she reappears with papers in hand. She grins and waves the results; definitely good news.

The DNA for their rapist comes back a match with the man in custody, and thankfully the defense attorney cuts their losses and gets his client to plead guilty. Rafael struts out of the room triumphantly, a pleased smirk on his face. Sonny waits until Fin and Rollins walk the perp out and the attorney shares a few more words with his husband before he says anything. “Nice one, Counselor.”

“It was almost a wasted trip,” Rafael scoffs. His eyeroll is playful, and the smile he fixes up at him oozes confidence.

“Really? What made it worth your while? The cold coffee or the piss in the elevator?”

“That’s what that was?”

Sonny laughs and pecks his nose, wrapping his arm around his husband’s waist and leading him into the squad room. “Day drinker wandered into a park and started flashing people. A couple of unis picked him up.”

“I’d ask how he managed to relieve himself there, but I’d rather stay ignorant.”

“Good idea.”

Rafael lingers in the breakroom while the other detectives update Liv. He shrugs casually when he gets a mention for the confession and planned guilty plea, as if he had done something as simple as breathing. Sonny doesn’t realize he’s smiling admirably at his husband until the Lieutenant gathers his attention again. There’s still work they need to do for court tomorrow. Liv dismisses them to prepare witness statements and their own testimonies.

Sonny starts to contact witnesses who will be testifying, looking up just in time to see his husband waltz over with a bag of pretzels in hand. Rafael shares a few words with Liv on his way over and plops down in the chair beside Sonny’s desk. He takes a few chips from the offered bag with a thankful smile. While he waits on the phone for the witness to answer, he nudges his husband’s foot with his own and grins.

“I don’t know if I have any legal standing,” he says in a low voice, “but I’d love to court you.”

“We’re married,” Rafael points out.

The call goes to voicemail, and Sonny leaves a message and hangs up. It had only taken him a day after his last pickup line got rejected to come up with a new tactic: law puns. The location had little to no effect on his efforts, but something told him that if he were to center the jokes around layers of law references, he could get a proper reaction. Sonny is already dialing another number when another one pops into his head. “Well, how about I help you with those briefs?”

Rafael pauses, glances down at his lap, and tilts his head ever so slightly. “Are you talking about my underwear or my case briefings? Because I don’t need help with either.”

If it weren’t for the halted ringing and voice, Sonny would have cursed. Not at his husband, although how he had yet to gain recognition for his work was mind-boggling to him. But at the overall fact that he—Dominick “Sonny” Barba-Carisi, Esquire and NYPD Detective—had yet to find the right way to discreetly flirt with his husband. How many times has he tried to get a response, one that was attentive of his obvious advances?

Rafael leaves soon after when Sonny’s phone call lasts a good while. Sonny is disappointed that he can’t walk him down to his Lyft, but the promise of Cubanos for dinner, straight from their kitchen, keeps him sated and delighted to return home.

* * *

_Forlini’s  
_ _Thursday, 7:30 PM_

Court is taxing.

The defense is able to get away with tiny things and successfully establish reasonable doubt with cross-examinations. Even Rollins and Fin, usually composed and professional from their experiences, slip a bit under the pressure. The tension on the right side of the courtroom is clear, from the anxious whispers when court is adjourned to the weight in Rafael’s shoulders and the tension in his jaw that lasts all the way to Forlini’s. There is nothing to celebrate but the least they could do is fuel their troubles with alcohol.

“We have more tomorrow,” Liv assures them, ever the motivator, like a parent attempting to encourage her child from quitting the soccer team. “The defense can only attack these women so much before it looks biased. If they make a habit out of it, the jury will see that.”

“It’s not about misogyny,” Rafael murmurs into his glass of scotch. “Regardless of that prick’s views on women, someone can see past it and get his client acquitted.” Sonny runs a hand over his back, kneading at his shoulder where he knows a bundle of nerves is clenched from his garbled thoughts. He only gives a grunt of approval as an indication and a peck on his free hand. They’re off the clock and not at work; their shows of affection have a bit more freedom.

“Usually, I’d agree with you, Barba, but I’m with Liv on this one,” Rollins frowns. “Judge Bauer already grilled him for his wording. If anything, that should be enough to show them.”

“One can hope.” Rafael downs the rest of his drink and wordlessly requests a refill.

“You keep that attitude up and you’ll end up with a loss,” Fin points out.

Rafael only snorts. “Has my husband infected you with pointless optimism, or has being a grandfather softened you?”

Sonny elbows his husband before Fin can respond. “Cool it, Raf. You’re being snippy,” he says. His answer is a grumble—probably an angst-filled protest on how snippy he is allowed to be, not unlike a teenager’s woes and complaints—and another sip of scotch.

Eventually, Rollins and Sonny manage to steer the conversation to whatever sports game had taken place recently. They reenact a few of the plays—including a rather dramatic rendition of a player’s at-bat, featuring a home run that even has the bartender smiling along—to put a brighter spot on the night. At least for Liv and Fin, it turns out fine, and they share a bit more pleasant conversation above the creeping sense of dread. It is inescapable with their jobs; turning the knob down on it is easy.

Rafael stews in his chair, which has scooted closer to Sonny at some point, and leans into his husband. His tie is practically undoing itself with how loose it is. His vest is unbuttoned and hangs off his shoulders in a half-dressed motion. If he’s bothered by it, or the state of his hair after he drags his hand through it a few times, he only adds it to his annoyance from the trial. Sonny just keeps him close and leans in for a kiss to his temple or a soft rub of his side. Anything to make his husband feel better.

Sonny doesn’t mention work until they’re driving home half an hour later. It’s only seven-thirty by the time they arrive home, so after he parks the car, he leads his husband down the block. Strolling through an early Manhattan evening will keep Rafael’s mind in a state of sour indifference, just enough to not boil over with anger. They don’t have to go far; just a few blocks, as long as they go together.

“Is it okay if I bring up court?” Sonny asks. He always asks when it doesn’t go in his favor. Rafael doesn’t speak but he gives an attentive nod and looks at Sonny with the faint teasing of an assured smile. “We knew this would be a tough case, going into it, and we’re still prepared for the worst. But even when we are, I know it doesn’t mean we’ve lost hope. You just gotta be prepared. And I would personally argue that you do your best work under pressure.”

“You don’t tell me enough,” Rafael sighs. A bit dramatic, but a good sign. If he can banter with him, he can come to terms with the events of the day.

“Remind me to do that more often. But you know I mean that, Rafael. Everything you do is with your best foot forward. Even the most mundane thing is calculated so that you end up looking good.”

“As if I don't already look good.”

“Oh, you do, don’t worry. You’re attractive no matter what.” He brings up his hand to kiss each finger, smiling into each one.

Rafael stares at his feet and squeezes their hands together even tighter. “I appreciate every word. Even though I couldn’t see it in that courtroom.”

“You’ll get through it.” He pauses and adds; “You always do. Tomorrow, you’ll bounce back and eviscerate the defense—”

Rafael practically purrs in delight. “Mm, eviscerate. Delicious.”

“What is it with you and your kink for SAT words?”

“I’m attracted to your intelligence as much as I am to your accent.” Rafael only shrugs when Sonny guffaws and shakes his head. “I already explained myself after the obfuscate incident. Please, continue.”

“As you wish.” Sonny kisses his cheek to the tune of complaints about a poor reference to “The Princess Bride.” “You’ll eviscerate the defense, as always. You’ll tell those women’s story and really show just how much damage that asshole has done. And then,” if he can slip in one last attempt of playful flirting, they could be fine, and the deal would be sealed, “when everything is settled, you can rest the prosecution at my place.”

Rafael looks up at him, his pace slowing slightly. “We’ve lived together for almost six years, Sonny. Why wouldn’t I stay at your place?”

Well. He tried every option he could think of, changing them as best he could to fit the situation. And they aren’t troubled, and they aren’t struggling, so Sonny sees no point in continuing his advances. He and Rafael are married, happily, so there’s no real prize to be seen. At least it was fun to come up with flirty ways to impress Rafael.

“Don’t worry about that last part,” Sonny tries to assure him. He leans in for a kiss but Rafael swerves out of the way and stops walking to face him. Oh no.

“Sonny,” he starts, and Sonny already hates the tone of his voice, “was that one of those pickup lines you wanted to use on me? Even though I never noticed them?”

“What are you talking about?” He makes another sweep forward to capture his lips but Rafael steps back fully, his hand slipping from his grasp. “Rafi. Come on.”

“Let me say something first.” Rafael hugs himself at the brisk breeze that passes by and steadies himself in place and in his argument. “I know I didn’t notice the ones you used before. But I thought about it, and the one from yesterday, and I think I know you well enough to see what you’re doing.”

“C’mon, don’t say it like that. This isn’t some big conspiracy.”

“I know it’s not. But you don’t need to put so much effort into it.” Rafael takes both his hands and smiles. “Do you remember when we got engaged?”

“Course I do.” Sonny can’t help but beam at him at the fond memory. “I still dream about it.”

“I know. There wasn’t a lot of planning involved. In fact, you beat me to the punch by a week. And on the courthouse steps no less, which was the last place I expected you to do it, considering your mild germaphobia. But regardless of that, you did…wonderful.” He smiles softly and lightly swings their hands. “You didn’t plan anything. You didn’t _need_ to, Sonny. That’s how most of your ideas turn out anyway.”

“I get it.” Sonny steps forward to wrap his arms around him. Rafael curves into the hold and exhales deeply in content. “I shouldn’t try so hard.”

“No, that’s not what I meant. Not at all.” Rafael leans back without removing himself from Sonny’s arms and looks up at him. His face reveals a troubling fear at his words, firm in resolution. “I appreciate your attempts. And frankly, I think it’s sweet that you’re trying to woo me.” A smirk twitches on his lips and falls from his control. “I’m a bit hard to impress, though, so it may take you a while before we go on our first date.”

“I can wear you down,” Sonny shoots back. “Just give me two more weeks. I have a whole novel’s worth of material.”

“I’m sure you do. All from the first link on your Google search.”

Sonny doesn’t tell him how right he is. Rafael probably knows it already anyway. “Consider it the use of a creative license.”

“You don’t have to do anything special for me, Sonny. The only thing I can ever ask for is your company. But if you want to pull off something suave—more than you usually do—it might be better to let it happen. Good things come to you when you act on your impulses.”

Sonny feels his heart soften at the words. He appreciates the encouragement to continue his coy flirting, no matter how it was done. It would be a lie to say he wasn’t relieved by it. Rafael would never think of stopping him from showing his love in whatever way he could, but that didn’t mean silly fears would distract him from the truth. Even with all their years together.

“I think I’m gonna have to steal your line,” Sonny says as he starts to walk again. This time, his arm stays over Rafael’s shoulder and keeps him close. “You’re way too good for me.”

“Objection, hearsay.”

“You know it’s true.”

“You’re lucky I don’t charge you for plagiarism.”

I’m lucky for more than that, Sonny thinks to himself. He doesn’t need to say it; his gaze says it for him.

* * *

_One Hogan Place  
_ _One week later_

The non-guilty verdict is tough to hear. Rafael knows it before the jury is even finished exiting the courtroom to begin deliberation. A pit in the center of his stomach assures him that he lost, and the thought nearly breaks him. He’s only given a day to ready himself for the result of four days in court, even though he knows no amount of prep will be enough.

With the verdict read, the jury dismissed, and the defendant free to go, Rafael sulks out of the courthouse with Rollins and Liv flanking him and comforting the pile of hate he’s already establishing around himself. Only a handful of cases affect him deeply; they’re the kind that keep him in his office, the ones that Sonny has to lure him out of his office and practically carry him out of Hogan Place well into the night. The ones that claw at his insides and insert every inch of himself into, so that when the jury returns, he either relaxes the coiled tension and breathes without a tight chest or deflates on himself and boils in bitter defeat.

“You did great,” Liv says to him on their way back to his office. Rollins heads back to the squad car to wait for her while they walk across the street. Sonny, ever the superstitious type, never stood in the courtroom once the jury reached a verdict. On the occasions that he was able to stop by, he waited outside for an embrace to melt into or dissolve away from. Today, he had a case to occupy his time.

“It could have been better,” Rafael whispers, more to himself than her. “I could have done more. If I had paid more attention to the jury, if I had been better to the judge, I—” He stops himself; Sonny’s voice is already ringing in his head to not beat himself up. “I did what I could. There’s nothing I can do but…keep going.”

Liv’s smile is sad, verging on pity if they were anything but close. “That’s something. Sonny’s optimism must be contagious.”

“Don’t tell him that. He’ll hoard every Advil on the block.”

They stop in the lobby, and Liv turns to him. Her hand grasps his and squeezes tightly. Rafael returns it, just as firm and just as searching. “You helped those women face their abuser and get past it. If you hadn’t prosecuted their case, they might have lost hope.”

Rafael repeats that mantra in his head and remains silent while he waits for the elevator and Liv leaves. He has more cases to work on, more people to assist, more material to get his hands on than anyone else. He is not gone forever, but a temporary hologram to the unstoppable force he knows he can deliver. Dwelling in the feeling for just a moment will be enough to settle it and push it behind him.

He remains patient in the elevator, scrolling through his phone absently but focusing on nothing. He rides alone to his floor and dismisses a comforting Carmen—who has a coffee ready for him, bless her—for a long lunch. He enters his office and faces a husband who relies on spontaneity for nearly everything he does, who will always try to impress him like he’s trying to woo him or garner a reaction, all because he loves him, who only has to look at him to banish any other aspect of reality.

A sign that says “Barba-Carisi” in slanted handwriting is held in front of him.

Sonny grins. “Are you Mr. Barba-Carisi?”

“I might be,” Rafael replies. His own smile is reflexive, barely reaching his eyes but still enjoying the sight he’s walked in on. “I believe there’s someone else with that name, but I may be wrong.”

“Who’s to say?”

Rafael puts aside his briefcase, gingerly sets the coffee down, and kisses him. Sonny is a warm haven to burrow into, to wander away from the trial and let his guard down. The familiar taste of him and the slight lean upwards is all the reminder he needs: he is unconditionally loved for his failure. He is not as powerless as he previously mused. And he is definitely not going through the motions alone.

Sonny takes the right side of his face in his hand and runs along his jaw. His touches are feather-light, skating over his skin for a faint presence but never committing to the sensation. A caution, for sure, one that Rafael can only appreciate. His quiet hum into their kiss confirms his approval of the turn they’ve taken and is all Sonny needs to wrap his incredibly long arms around him. One hand caresses the back of his head while the other keeps hold of his waist.

“Rollins told me about the verdict,” Sonny mumbles. His apology is unsaid, glittering in a pair of periwinkle blue. “I came over the second I could.”

“I hope you didn’t break any traffic laws on the way over.”

“If I did, I have a pretty good lawyer.”

“Me, I’m assuming. And if you say Rita, I will divorce you.”

An interesting tactic, for sure, but Sonny only laughs and pulls lightly on his hands. “C’mon. I wanna take you somewhere.”

“Any specifics you can spare?”

“If I knew where we were going, I would. But…” he shrugs and simpers quietly. “Guess we’ll have to see.”

They walk through a bustle of people, passing by familiar restaurants and turning them down when they continue through the crowd. The owner of a boutique greets them as they pass. Sonny buys flowers—six tulips, yellow and white ones—and hands them to Rafael as if they were a great treasure. The way the petals flutter against their pace and the sweet smell that wafts from its centers, it might as well be. When they wait for the lights on the crosswalk to change, Sonny points out shapes he sees in the clouds. His hand never strays from Rafael’s grip.

If it were any other time, Rafael would expect him to spout off about whatever work he found or a new fact he discovered. But Sonny doesn’t burst into a state of constant rambling, instead opting for soft comments and light conversation spoken through eye contact and smiles. They come back around on the street facing the courthouse, and a pang ripples through Rafael’s chest. The case comes back to him, the weakness clutches his throat, and the world feels darker. He pries his gaze away when Sonny speeds up and leads him to a bench, putting the courthouse behind them and easing the ache.

“Did you enjoy our walk?” Sonny asks. It was nothing spectacular, just around the few familiar blocks they amble down on lunch breaks, the stops they make when they’re running late on date night or just want something to bring home. The boutique fuels a majority of their more relaxed date nights, from a picnic blanket they still use two years after its purchase to a vase to keep flowers in for their respected desks; the flower shop knows their regular orders by heart; the Italian bakery across from Forlini’s had even recognized Sonny after knowing Rafael for years of post-work stops for a boyfriend and, eventually, a husband.

“It was very nice,” Rafael says. He scoots closer to Sonny to rest his head on his shoulder. His fingers idly toy with the wrapping protecting the flowers. “Thank you.”

Sonny pecks his temple. “No problem. I hope it was enough to take your mind off it for a little while.”

“I feel better. Not as…tense. Hopefully, it won’t rear its head again.”

“That’s why I got you those.” He nods to the tulips.

Rafael smirks teasingly at him. “And here I am, thinking you’re trying to woo me.”

Sonny, with an offended scoff, raises his hands. “I didn’t say I wasn’t. Do you know why I chose those colors?”

“You always choose these colors.” Rafael has a soft spot for tulips, and the struts down lavished hallways in perfectly tailored suits from a closet holding every color imaginable provide him a general understanding of a color wheel. But if it meant the same from flowers, he was none the wiser. “But I like to hear you talk. Amuse me.”

“Well, red and purple are probably the most obvious—red represents true love and romance, and I know you don’t like how cliche that is, and purple represents royalty. Pink tulips also stand for love, but more platonic. Like the ones you give a crush or your mom on her birthday. And the variegated ones—you know those, right, the ones that are one color on top and another on the bottom—they symbolize ‘beautiful eyes.’ And I used to think about getting those for you, but I figured it’d be a bit too much to add those to the compliments I already give you.”

It would be impossible to count the number of times Sonny stares at his eyes with utter admiration or praises them in the early morning sunlight. Rafael smiles at the reminder he received that morning, and last night before bed, and during the dinner they made together before that. And when he returned from his convention a few weeks prior, Sonny was hung up on those eyes, babbling about how much he missed them. “How considerate. My ego will enjoy hearing about this.”

Sonny rolls his eyes playfully and fiddles with the paper surrounding the tulips. He glances at the white bulbs and gently points to them. “White tulips have a ton of meanings, and I’ve seen a lotta explanations for them, but I like the ones that represent remembrance. When you spend as much time away from your spouse as we do, you gotta rely on that memory sometimes. And no matter what type of day we have, we always have each other. Plus,” he smiles wide and pulls Rafael into a hug, “they make the yellow look nice.”

Rafael takes a second to gather his breath and swallow the lump lodged in his throat. From the moment they shared how much they loved each other, back when they were dating, he knew he would never get over how much Sonny loves him. He showers him in affection when he’s within reach, he inserts love into every dish he spins for them, he reminds him every day just by looking at him. Sonny’s dedication and intense emotions might have scared others off, but Rafael took it in stride as easily as Sonny took his initial coldness and mild hesitancy.

“What about the yellow ones?” Rafael asks, his voice low and gentle.

Sonny’s smile provides the answer Rafael realizes he already knew. “Happiness. Sunshine. Cheerful thoughts. I almost didn’t include them—apparently, people have used them to represent rejected love.” Rafael just smiles and shakes his head; he would have made some type of retort if his throat wasn’t clogged from affection. “But I decided to keep them. There’s nothing absolutely good or absolutely bad. Just because the yellow tulips can mean something bad doesn’t eliminate the good things they represent.” He looks down at Rafael critically. “Just because one case ends badly for you doesn’t mean the whole system is broke.”

Rafael kisses him sweetly. He pulls back to admire him, but Sonny’s loving stare and warm smile pull him back in. There is truly no limit to the love his husband holds. “Any other cliches?”

“Only the one that tulips represent hopeless love.”

Rafael chuckles, the warmth in his chest stretching throughout the rest of his body when Sonny joins in. “Of course. I know you too well.”

“It’s like we’re married or something.” Sonny traces the ring on Rafael’s hand with a fond look.

“I don’t think I could ever put into words how thankful I am that you’re in my life,” Rafael admits.

“I’m thankful you’re in mine.” Sonny pecks his forehead. “Every day. I’m here for you, always.”

The courthouse isn’t as painful to look at when they finally stand. Sony walks him back to the front entrance of Hogan Place, then he joins him in the elevator, and then he lingers outside his office, sharing butterfly kisses and grasping at every excuse to stay just a second longer. Rafael keeps the tulips in his line of sight for the rest of the day, a reassurance of the presence he’ll meet at home and the lingering tresses of light that Sonny left behind: on his lips, his left hand’s ring finger, on the bulbs of flowers perched on his desk in a clear vase he has for just this occasion.

Rafael smiles at the yellow and white tulips. Sonny is as suave as he thinks.


End file.
